The Other Angel
by blackhole freedom
Summary: Angel aka Warren Worthington III is now a member of the X-men and a prominent figure in the push for mutant rights. He is meeting with his father for the first time in months but not all is as it seems. He is betreyed and ends up at the School where he meets another little Angel and the rest of her Flock. What will happen to him? Will his friends save him or can he save himself?
1. Chapter 1

Hello readers. This story is set in the X-men movie timeline about six monthes after the third movie. All the character statuses are the same, but the political situation is similar to that of the 'Wolverine and the X-men' setting. I have taken a few liberties with ages and have pulled some character traits from other versions of the X-men. This is because I needed more details that the movies did not provide. The stuff that was there, I have tried to leave the same though. In the 'Maximum Ride' timeline this is set during 'Angel Experiment' so I don't think there will be to many spoilers beyond that. Please read and review, it really doesn't take very long. And I don't own either story; no copyright is intended.

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Warren Kenneth Worthington III walked down the stairs of the Xavier Mansion, which he had become his new home after the battle on Alcatraz Island. For the first time in his life, he felt like he had a purpose. He had been training with the other X-men and now had a more in depth understanding of his powers that he never thought he could possibly get. He had been helping show the public the side of mutants they never saw before, by coming out as a mutant and attending events and giving press conferences. He had become both a major political figure in the mutant equal rights movement, second only to Dr. Hank McCoy and something of a scandal, being the son of one of the biggest anti-mutant figures in the world. The best thing he had done, at least in his eyes, was teaching the students at Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters. It turned out that he had a knack for it and it had been an honor when he had been offered a position teaching Ethics, Charles Xavier's old class. He had never met the man, but everyone who knew him, even his supposed enemies, had huge respect for him and after hearing all he had done, Warren did as well.

Now, the young man was headed for his most difficult confrontation yet. He was dressed in a black tuxedo and a grey over-coat ready for a very upscale dinner. When he was reaching for the door, the twenty-three year old x-man was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned to see it belonged to Storm and Wolverine was beside her. She wasted no time.

"Angel… are you sure this is a good idea?"

Warren sighed. "He's my father. Whether good or bad, I have to hear him out. I might not get another chance."

"I know your relationship with him is important, but you need to be careful. He tried to force the Cure on you once; he could do it again."

"He promised not to."

"And you think that's gonna stop him? Kid, you need to open your eyes. Think about what he's done and what you've done. How do you think he's reacting to everything that happened?"

Wolverine's words hit a nerve. "Think? I am thinking! I'm thinking that I saved my father's life, and because of that, he might have a different mindset about mutants! I think that meeting with him could be a chance to show him that what we're doing here is a good thing!"

"You sure it's not just so you can go make him accept you? So you can try and fit into him world somewhere?"

"Again, he is my father," the blond man said, trying to calm down, "Of course I want him to accept me, but that is not the only reason I'm going. I can get him on our side. I know I can, I just need to sit down and talk to him."

Storm still had her hand of her Warren's shoulder. "We know you're trying to help things, but we just don't want you putting yourself in danger."

"It's a dinner party, there's going to be fifty other people. I won't be in any danger."

"Yeah? Well, take this just in case," Wolverine said gruffly as he handed him a small earpiece, "At the first sign of trouble, use it."

Warren stared at him for a few seconds. "I won't need it," he said, concealing the device in his ear and turning it on, "but I'll wear it if you think it's that important."

"That's all we ask," Storm said removing her hand, "Have a nice dinner."

"That and that you remember the close quarters training you've been working on," Logan said, always one to be paranoid.

"Sure thing," Warren said as he walked out the door and towards his silver sports car. Flying would be faster, he knew, but he was trying to make peace with his father and driving would help placate him.

When he pulled up in front of his father's building, he gave his keys to the valet and went to the elevator. He was luckily the only person in it and had time to straighten his clothes and hair, and check that his earpiece was working. Not that he needed it, but you could never be to cautious. When the door opened it revealed a luxurious penthouse, and the smiling face of Warren Worthington Junior.

The younger Worthington walked up to the older and shook his hand. "Hello Father. How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you," Mr. Worthington said, before surprising Warren by pulling him into a hug. "It's been too long. I've missed you, son."

Warren stood there in shock for a moment, before the politician in him took over. "I've missed you too Father."

"Why don't we go sit down and catch up," the older man said as he led his son into dining room.

"Don't you have other guests to attend to?"

"Oh, no. I wanted to be able to talk and catch up. I can't very well do that with fifty people milling around. I do have one other guest who should be here soon. I'm sorry, I wouldn't even have him over, but we are going to be discussing a business deal that I'm afraid can't wait."

"That fine. I understand. I'm glad to get what I can," Warren said as they sat down at a large dinner table.

"I have been keeping up with your political exploits. I must say I'm impressed. But not much gets out about your personal life. What else have you been doing?"

Warren smiled. This was his chance, his opening to talk about mutation and what it meant. "Well, you probably know that I've been staying at the Xavier Institute. I've actually been helping teach there."

"Teach? Are you qualified for that?"

"Well, it's a little complicated. The students that live at the Institute attend nearby public schools depending on their age, but are also required to take extra classes from the Institute staff. We help them learn how to use their individual powers and what situations that it would be appropriate to use them in. I'm in charge of an Ethics class, but I also act as a counselor for the kids who need it."

"Oh. That is… very interesting. I'm actually curious about why you chose to live there. I know you have your own houses and what about your museum? You were living there before, weren't you?"

"I suppose I was lonely living by myself. After I went to Xavier's, I guess I felt like I belonged somewhere."

"I see," his father said stiffly. Warren then realized what he had said, and what he had implied to his father. He was about to apologize when they heard a ding, signaling that the elevator had arrived again.

"That must be my other dinner guest. Let's go meet him and then we can eat." Warren nodded his agreement.

The man that came out of the elevator didn't seem very special at first glance, but Warren knew from experience just how dangerous it was to judge someone by their appearance. He was of average height, a few inches shorter than Warren himself, had mousey brown hair and a mustache and wore glasses over blue eyes. His clothes were unextraordinary, consisting of a simple brown business suit, a white shirt, brick red tie and brown shoes that were slightly darker than his suit. The older Worthington walked forward and shook his hand.

"Dr. Batchelder, nice to finally meet you in person."

"And you as well, Mr. Worthington," he said before noticing Warren standing off to the side. "And this must be your son. I was told he would be here as well. Tell me, what is your name young man?"

Warren and his father both smirked despite themselves. "Warren Worthington…the third," the third, he said when the man raised an eyebrow. "Pleased to meet you."

"Jeb Batchelder," he said as he shook Warren's hand. "The same."

After the short introduction they all went into the dining room, where three place settings had been put out on the table. Warren Worthington Jr. sat at the head of the table while his son and potential business partner sat on his right and left respectively. Warren sat with a clear view of New York City out the large windows. It was a simple comfort being able to look outside, one that he had come to cherish over his years of being hidden away by his family. He was pulled out of his musings by Jeb Batchelder. "So tell me about yourself. I hear you are quite the young upcoming politician. And a member of the Fortune 500, no less."

"Hm? Oh, yes. I've been pushing for mutant equal rights."

"Really? May I ask why?," Dr. Batchelder asked as if the concept was completely unheard of.

Warren exchanged a glance with his father who nodded for him to answer. Warren sighed. He could tell that this wouldn't be a pleasant dinner. "Well, to start off, I am a mutant myself. I have seen firsthand how many other mutants are treated. It's wrong to treat mutants as anything less than human. However, some mutants think themselves more than human. I'm focusing on both problems and bringing these groups closer together, showing them that they are equal."

"Fascinating. What is your mutation?" He hadn't paid any attention after Warren said he was a mutant. However he decided to humor the man.

"I can fly."

"How do you do it?"

"I have wings on my back. I use them the same way a bird does."

Dr. Batchelder looked like he really wanted to ask something but didn't want to be rude. As if he hadn't been rude already. "You want to see them don't you?"

"I apologize. I wasn't sure if you would be offended."

"It's fine; you're not the first person. I don't mind at all." He actually did care a little bit, but playing nice with this man might help him get in his father's good graces. He stood up and removed the jacked of his tuxedo, and stretched his snow white wings to their full width of twenty feet. His shirt had been tailored to accommodate them.

Dr. Batchelder's eyes widened as Warren sat back down, his wings now folded loosely against his back. "Are they natural?" That was a strange question.

"Um…yes. Why would they not be?"

"No reason, just curious. Do you have any other abilities?" Warren felt like he was being interrogated but continued to humor his interrogator.

"I have an accelerated healing factor. And my entire body is adapted for flight. I can withstand higher winds and G-forces than normal humans. I'm also at peak strength for a man my age; I can lift around 500 pounds and am more durable, I suppose is the best way to put it, than other people."

"Amazing! I would love to study any one of those abilities."

"Excuse me," Warren was usually very mild-mannered but that comment did offend him.

"So you're impressed?" the older Worthington said, ignoring his son.

"Of course! He's everything you said and more. I believe we have a deal," Dr. Batchelder said with a smile that put Warren on edge.

"_Excuse me_, but what are you two talking about?!," Warrens voice rose higher than it normally would, but he wasn't shouting yet.

"Oh, my boy," Batchelder said, like he was just remembering he was in the room, "I believe it's time you found out why you really came here tonight." He motioned at something behind the young man and when he turned around, he saw six men in black suits with guns trained on him. He looked from the men to the window and then settled on staring into his father's eyes. Warren Worthington Jr. had his business face on. He was neither smiling nor frowning but looked both determined to get his way and like he would compromise to reach an end.

"No. No, you can't do this." At that moment, Warren realized that he was part of the deal, that he was being sold.

"Actually, I can. And I am, son" Warren was fighting back tears as he jumped over the table and tried to smash through the window, but was unsuccessful. It was reinforced and too strong to break. He returned his gaze to the armed men who were guarding his only exit and charged. At the same time, he put his hand to his ear and activated his com unit, suddenly very thankful for Wolverine's paranoia. "Angel to X-men, come in X-men! It was an ambush, I need backup, NOW! Storm! Wolverine! Anybody, HELP!" He pushed his way passed the guards only to be faced with a dozen more in the entryway. As he watched, they began to transform into wolf-like creatures with deadly looking claws and teeth. For a second, Angel wondered if he was having a nightmare and he was really asleep back at the Institute, but it all seemed too real for that. He needed to focus. He was surrounded, outnumbered and defiantly outgunned, seeing as they all had one and he didn't. Seeing no other options than to fight, the normally passive mutant unfurled his wings and set himself into a defensive stance. His opponents saw this as an invitation to attack and several of them charged. Angel knew somewhere in the back of his mind that it was hopeless, that he could not defeat so many opponents on his own, but his instincts forced him to try. He managed to knock three of them out, and push several more against the walls using his wings (while getting several slash wounds and loosing quite a few feathers in the process, but he hardly noticed) before they got smart and fired at him.

Tranquilizer darts flew at him. It took getting hit eight times, but eventually, Angel wavered and fell to his hands and knees. Before he could even try to get up on his own, two of the beasts he was fighting grabbed his arms and pulled him back so he was standing on his knees. In front of him were Dr. Jeb Batchelder and Warren Worthington Jr. He stared sleepily into the eyes of the man he called 'father' and mumbled the only words he could think of. "why? i saved you. i… i'm your son. why?" Just as darkness took him, the Angel finally let his sorrow show and his tears fall.

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There you go! Please, please, please review. I need to know how I am doing and how readers are reacting to the storyline.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey everyone! Here's the second chapter of my story. Please review people. It's really only polite, I mean I spend all this time writing a story for you guys to read. The least you could do is tell how it was! Again, I own neither story and am not making any profit from this. Thank you, and please read on.

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When Angel first woke up, he was confused. When he saw bars in front of him, he tried to get up, but hit his head on something hard and metal. That knocked the sleepiness out of him, literally, and the events with his father and Dr. Batchelder came rushing back. He would have let his misery overtake him, but he knew he needed to figure out his situation and what had happened after he had been tranquilized. Looking around he saw that he was in a large cage that seemed suspiciously like a dog crate. He looked down at himself to look for injuries and found none, but he did see that he was now wearing a grey hospital gown and pants of the same color and material and he was barefoot. His tux and dress shoes were nowhere in sight. Someone had to have changed him while he was out; that wasn't a pleasant thought. The room around him was dark. The only light came from a small window in a door to his right, but it was more than enough for his mutated eyes to see by. The room was filled with other crates stacked on top of one another three high and lined up in rows. Each one contained some sort of creature, some looking more human than others, but none larger than a child. Looking to the crate on his immediate left, he realized that that was exactly what they were. Mutant children. The little girl inside of the smaller cage was fast asleep. She was dressed the same way he was, had blond hair and seemed to have a delicate built, but Angel had a feeling she was anything but delicate. If it had not been for one shocking feature, he wouldn't have known she was a mutant. That was the wings on her back. They were snow white like his, but mush smaller. He couldn't be sure, but he would guess she had an eight or nine foot wingspan. It was strange, seeing someone who appeared so much like himself. He had met other mutants who could fly, even met a couple with wings, but none that were feathered like his own. He found himself staring as she began to stir, as if she was having a nightmare. Considering where she was, he wasn't surprised. When her face scrunched up in silent fear, Angel reached out and started to pet the back of her head and mutter calming reassurances, like he had done for some of the younger students at Xavier's when they had nightmares. His touch caused her to wake up with a start and she pulled herself into the far corner of her cage and out of his reach. She glared at him and he felt a funny ghost pressure in his head. He recognized the feeling from his training with the other X-men and smiled kindly at the girl. "You know it's not very polite to read someone's mind without their permission," he said softly. She had a surprised look on her face, but didn't say anything. "Don't worry; I'm not going to hurt you. Can you tell me your name?"

She looked at him suspiciously, but eventually mumbled "Angel."

"Did you say 'Angel'," he asked with a small laugh.

"Yes! What's so funny?!," she asked with an indignant look.

"Nothing. Nothing's funny," he said, holding up his hands in a peace gesture. "It's just that my name is Angel too."

She had a blank look for second, before she smiled and laughed too. Angel looked at the little girl who shared his name. "Angel, can you tell me where we are?"

She looked very sad as she said, "We're in the School. It's a bad place, where the White Coats experiment on us."

"White Coats?"

"They're really mean scientists."

"Do you know how you got here? Or where your family is?"

She was about to answer when the lights came on, and nearly blinded them. Jeb Batchelder walked in wearing a white lab coat, flanked by two people dressed the same. They reminded him of the scientists employed by his father. Anger filled the winged man, but he was careful not to let it control him. He stared unwavering into Batchelder's eyes and waited for him to make the first move. "I'm glad to see you are awake, Warren. I'd like to be the first to welcome you to this first-class facility."

"Oh, I'm sure you would. But I would like to know exactly what is going on here. Perhaps you can tell me why I am in a cage, or better yet what a bunch of children are doing in cages," he said in a cold voice, gesturing around the room.

"I should think it would be obvious. This is a scientific research facility which specializes in recombinant genetics. You see around you the results of our efforts."

"So I'm supposed to be your guinea pig? If so, I'll have you know I will not cooperate."

"I am sad to hear that, but we will get what we want with or without your cooperation."

"And what would that be?"

"A while ago, we managed to create several human-avian hybrids," he gestured towards the younger Angel's cage, as she shivered slightly. "They were one of our only successful projects. The reason we want to study you, is simply because you are similar and we want to know why. What the differences between you are, what causes your particular mutation as opposed to others with the X-gene, and so on. Now, my associates and I would like to begin the tests. While we do not want to, we will use force if necessary."

On that troubling note, one of the other 'White Coats' (Angel figured that these had to be the 'mean scientists' who the other Angel was talking about), a middle-aged woman , called for someone to come in and five of the Wolf-like creatures who helped capture him entered the room. Two of them held rifles that were probably loaded with tranquilizer darts and stood at a safe distance. The other three walked forward past the White Coats and up to his cage. The closest one held a set of keys and a metal rod that Angel assumed was meant to hurt him. The last two held hand and ankle cuffs and similar chain restraints for his wings. He was right about the metal rod. The thing pushed it through the bars and jabbed him with it, sending a powerful electric shock through his body. While he was still dazed, the front of the crate was opened and Angel was pulled out. He tried to resist, but the shock along with the drugs from earlier, which weren't completely out of his system yet, made his efforts effectively useless. The first thing they he was forced into was the wing restraints, which worked like the leather restraints he used to wear, but were made with chains the same thickness as the cuffs and had some sort of lock in the back that he couldn't see but could hear being latched. After that was on, they cuffed his feet together and his hands together behind his back, over his wings. It made Angel feel helpless to be so completely immobilized, but he didn't show it. He stood tall as he was led from the room, one wolf-creature holding each of his arms. As the door was closing behind him, he turned back and looked at the other Angel, who looked very worried, and gave her another kind smile.

He was led through hallways that were almost as white as his wings, to a room filled with medical equipment. There was a large, t-shaped metal table in the middle of the room. With a large amount of resistance and several more shocks Angel was laid on his back and had his arms, legs and wings fully stretched out and latched down to the table. While he was pulling at his new restraints to no avail, the two unnamed White Coats were moving around him. The woman was cutting off the hospital gown, making him wonder why they even put it on him in the first place, and filling four syringes of blood from his arm, while the man was using a tape measure to record everything from his height and wingspan to the distance across his shoulders and around his biceps and waist and neck and almost every other thing they could think of. He didn't speak to them, until they decided they would take some of his feathers to study, at which point Angel called out "Ouch! What was that for?! You know that hurts right!?"

"Your physical comfort is hardly our concern. We took them so we can further study you. Now, Subject 24, I am going to," She was interrupted by Angel's voice.

"Excuse me?!"

The woman didn't look happy but was trying to be patient. "We took samples of your feath-."

"No, not that. What did you just call me?" Angel's voice was quiet and even and held almost no emotion, a skill he would reluctantly admit learning from his father. If he hadn't been thoroughly restrained, the other inhabitants of the room might have been afraid. As it was, they just smirked at him.

"Subject 24 is your designation here. As I was saying, I am going to ask you some general knowledge-"

"I will not answer to some number you people try to assign me. I have a name."

She was starting to get frustrated and turned to Batchelder. "I knew taking a subject from outside was a bad idea. Where did he come from? What in his background makes him so, so, ugh so insolent?!" Angel didn't think he was being insolent, just demanding basic rights, but kept quiet. He was curious what Dr. Batchelder was going to say about him.

"His name was Warren Worthington III. He is a natural mutant whose abilities appeared when he was barely thirteen. He was a wealthy young businessman, one of the youngest members of the Fortune 500, and more recently an influential player in the so called 'fight' for mutant rights as the new Secretary of Mutant Affairs," It didn't escape Angel's notice that Batchelder was talking about him in past tense, as if he no longer existed. "What got my interest was his involvement in the Battle of Alcatraz six months ago. Quite impressive, really. Though he had a reputation to being quite humble, I am not surprised by his behavior. I'm afraid you will just have to work the attitude out of him."

"What do you mean, 'work it out of me'?" Angel asked.

The woman was the one to respond with a cruel smile, "You're about to find out." Then one of the wolf-creatures came up and jabbed him with one of their electrocuting rods. He continued to shock Angel for more than a minute. He yelled in pain at first but by the end he was clenching his body and panting, trying to keep from hyperventilating. "That," she said, "was only a taste of what is to come. Now, _Subject 24_, I am going to ask you some questions and you are going to answer to the best of your ability. If you do not, the consequences will be most unpleasant."

Angel was still out of breath, but managed to say with all the dignity he could muster, "You can't get away with this. My friends will find me and when they do, you will be sorry."

"I think you'll find we can." They shocked him again before the woman began her questioning.

"What is your age?"

"Twenty-three."

"I was previously informed that you have an 'accelerated healing factor'. How fast do you heal?"

Angel was silent for that one, earning himself a shock.

"I'll ask again. How fast can you heal?"

Angel sighed in frustration. "I can recover from basic combat injuries in a few hours."

"What are basic combat injuries?"

"Slash or puncture wounds."

"Hmmm. Do you have a history of any illnesses?"

"No. I haven't gotten sick since I was a kid."

It went on like that for a couple hours. It was mostly general heath questions, but some required several shocks before he would answer. These were about the limits of his strength, speed on the ground and in the air, and anything relating to his mutant abilities. When the questioning was finished, he was taken to another, very cold, room where they strapped him down again, this time to a MRI machine, where they spent another two hours scanning him. Even though it was cold enough to make him shiver, Angel didn't think this was as bad as before because he was alone in the room.

The next room they brought him to, now back in his original restraints, was the size of a gymnasium and filled with workout equipment, a large maze that seemed to take up half of the room and a few things Angel didn't know what to make of. There were also more Wolf-like guards standing at intervals along the walls so he couldn't make a break for it. The first thing they did was free his hands and then promptly refasten them to the front of a treadmill. His feet were uncuffed and the treadmill was turned on, slowly at first but in a few minutes it was up to twelve miles an hour. After an hour of running, Angel hadn't even broken a sweat and the White Coats seemed to be getting bored, so they took him to a weight lifting machine. They sat him in a seat and made him lift weights above him head in fifty pound intervals. It didn't get hard until he hit four hundred but Angel did his best not to show his discomfort. When it reached five hundred and fifty, he couldn't help but wince as the weight was added, and caused his arms to shake. The White Coats just stood back and watched, writing notes on clipboards. When they added the next fifty, he had to rest it on his shoulders, and bite his lip to keep from crying out. When they took it off, Angel groaned and closed his eyes in relief as they led him to a metal bench.

Someone held a cup to his mouth and he reluctantly drank from it, finding only water. As he sat there, resting while he had the chance, Angel heard someone sit down beside him and looked to see who it was. It was the little girl from earlier. "Hey there, Angel." She looked up at him with sad eyes. He smiled at her, forgetting about his own troubles for the moment, trying to cheer her up. "Are you okay?" She shook her head no, as a White Coat walk up and help a cup to her mouth as well, but instead of drinking like he had, she bit down on the man's hand, hard. The older Angel couldn't help but grin as he pulled back, cradling his injured hand, but stopped as the man used his other one to slap the little girl across her face. The younger Angel teared up while the older one finally lost his temper and stood to his full height and moved between the girl and the scientist (They hadn't put his hand and ankle cuffs back on him). He was six inches taller and, though rather lean, more muscular than the man so he had no problem intimidating the man. When the White Coat pulled out one of the metal rods, Angel grabbed it faster than he could follow and punched him in the face, knocking him to the floor unconscious. He turned around and knelt in front of the smaller Angel and rested a hand on her shoulder, in a comforting gesture. She started crying and leaned into his touch. He would have comforted her with words, but he felt several darts hit his neck and started to pass out as he was dragged away.

The second time Angel woke up, it was dark again and he was back in his cage. The wing restraints were still on him, but his wrists and ankles were free. He felt the pressure on his mind and turned to look at the little girl staring at him intently. "Hello again. Are you doing any better? Did they hurt you again?"

"No, they just put me back in here," she looked a little frustrated when she asked, "Why did you help me?"

"It was the right thing to do, of course. And back home, I'm a teacher. My most important job is to protect the kids I'm charged with. That doesn't stop because I'm not there."

She seemed interested in that. "What do teach them?"

"Well, the class I am in charge of is Ethics. You see, the school I work at is special. It's a safe place for kids who are mutants to go and learn about their powers. Ethics is teaching them right and wrong, what situations it is okay to use their powers in. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I get it. Is it really safe to go there," she asked, hope in her voice.

"Yes. Once we get out of here, you can come see it if you want."

"That would be nice. But I don't think Max would like it very much."

"Who's Max?"

"She's the leader of the flock. They're my family. They're like me," the little girl said, shifting her wings a little in explanation. "We all escaped together when I was too young to remember, and now they're going to come get me. I know they are." She seemed so sure of what she was saying that the older of the two couldn't help but believe her.

"So you have people who care about you, who are looking for you. That's a really special thing. There are a lot of people in the world who don't have that."

"Do you have a family looking for you?"

Angel thought for a moment and then answered with as much conviction as she had, "Yes. I do." And he did. They may not be related by blood, but after this ordeal, his friends at Xavier's were the only people in the world that he would consider family, and he knew that, just like the younger Angels family, his was coming for him.

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Alright, you read it, NOW REVIEW IT!


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